Empathy
by MrsTater
Summary: Following the DoM Battle, Tonks struggles to soldier on as she copes with losing friends and colleagues. Inadequacy increases when Tonks turns to Remus and finds him burdened by his own battles. Can a date bolster their spirits for the battles to come?
1. Part One

This piece was written for the October 2006 Half Moon Rising Fic Jumble at **MetamorFicMoon** at LiveJournal. It was inspired by the following prompts: _Thing -- _"One: He's sitting in my chair. Two: He's wearing my clothes. Three: His name's Remus Lupin._"_ _Place --_ Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes _Time --_ A day of shed tears _Genre_ -- Romance. Thanks to **Godricgal** for her unflagging encouragement and expert beta work.

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**Part One**

"Dammit!" Tonks hissed through her teeth as her knees hit the floor -- hard. "Bloody shoes!"

She slapped her palm on the old parquet flooring that badly needed refinishing, blinking against the sting that had tortured her eyes -- but which she'd refused to give in to -- all day.

"Dammit, Tonks!" She gritted her teeth. "Why can't you ever put anything aw--?"

"I'm sorry," came Remus' hoarse voice from across the lounge.

Tonks flicked her eyes up to see him rising from the small, cluttered desk in front of the window. Gingerly rocking back off her knees, which were sure to sport a pair of great ugly bruises, Tonks' gaze fell on the shoes that had tripped her up in the doorway of her flat: Remus' battered, but carefully polished, brown Oxfords.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, offering her a hand up. "I was reading an owl from Dumbledore when I came in, and I apparently took them off without realising…"

The instant Remus' warm fingers closed firmly around hers, she burst into tears.

His grip faltered briefly as he gave a little start, but tightened again so he could hoist her to her feet. "Nymphadora, what--?"

"Don't call me that!" Tonks sniffed, drew a deep breath, reined in the unwanted bout of emotion--

--only to have another sob heave itself from her lungs. _Damn_. She couldn't stop herself crying.

Remus' arms went around her. He held her tightly against his chest; one hand cradled her head. He kissed her hair -- which was so ugly today, Tonks thought; much shorter than she normally wore it. But try as she might, she hadn't been able to make it longer, not with the image of Amelia Bones, so still and grey and..._dead_,emblazoned in her mind's eye.

Somehow, without her really being aware of it till they were reclining, Remus had guided her to the settee and pulled her down so that she lay against his chest.

He'd held her this way a lot lately. It was becoming too frequent an occurrence, to be honest. This was the first time she'd cried, though -- at least in front of him. Tonks wasn't a crier, she never had been--

-- but then she'd also never faced the deaths of colleagues..._friends_...in such rapid succession as Sirius, Emmeline, Amelia…

The damn Dementors everywhere weren't making it any easier to soldier on.

But as Tonks battled for control, she realised Remus had never held her _quite _like this. There were no soothing whispers, no fingers tracing calming patterns over her back. He was holding her tightly -- so very tightly - and making it even harder to breathe than this whole suffocating mess was already.

It wasn't a comforting touch.

"Your jumper…" With a deep breath, Tonks sucked in her emotions and pushed up from his chest. Twin black blots stained the loose-knit grey fabric. "My mascara…"

"Nothing a stain-removing charm won't mend," said Remus, starting to pull her against him again -- but Tonks resisted. She wanted to look into his face and read why his embrace was insistent, his voice strained.

She barely resisted a gasp as she took him in.

Ordinarily Remus' eyes were so bright, creased at the corners with smile lines, peering mischievously from under his fringe. It was easy for Tonks to forget, even with the reminder of his greying hair, that Remus was fourteen years her senior. Now he looked his age -- which wasn't old at all, some part of her insisted...but the day's growth of beard marked deep fatigue, and made him seem grey all over; the sparkle's absence from his blue eyes faded them.

Tonks glanced at the desk where he'd been working before she tumbled through the door. It was littered with _Daily Prophets, _thick old tomes, sheaves of parchment, quills, inkbottles. Remus was as strung out with the Order's end of the recent chaos as she was with the Ministry's.

And he was only two days from the full moon.

"I'm sorry," Tonks said. She laid her head against his chest again, giving in to his embrace, even though it was too tight.

"It's only a jumper, Tonks."

"No, I mean…I'm sorry I got so worked up. I know I'm not the only one having a rough go of it. It's just…" Her eyes wandered back to the door, to Remus' shoes that she'd tripped over, and her bag that had spilt as she tumbled. "…I keep getting tripped up at every turn. Amelia…"

She screwed her eyes shut. Remus shifted, turning them onto their sides. It was such a protective position, with the sofa cushions against her back, and Remus' warmth at her front. He slid one knee between hers, tangling their legs tangled together. His worn jumper was so soft on her cheek as he held her head to his chest. The steady rhythm of his heart had a hypnotic effect; the rumble in his chest as he spoke was so soothing that Tonks almost didn't care what he was saying.

"I know," he murmured.

She _did_ care, very much, to hear that.

Sliding her hands under his arms, Tonks tucked herself more snugly under his chin, and Remus spoke again.

"When people who support us…" His tight voice paused, and Tonks felt his heart quicken against her. "The people who we think will always be here…"

He hesitated again, then shook his head slightly. His fringe tickled her forehead. "I know," he repeated.

Tonks wondered for a moment what he'd been about to say, and why he'd decided not to. Before she could ask, Remus' hand slid from the back of her head, the heel of his palm and pads of his fingertips so light across her cheek, and cupped her chin to tilt her face up to his.

She was a bit surprised, considering how he'd looked a moment ago. Light had returned to his eyes once more, and his gaze burned into hers before flickering down to her mouth. His thumb traced her bottom lip. The touch was almost like a kiss -- a gentle, slightly teasing one, that made Tonks crave his mouth. As though fully aware of how he was making her feel, Remus pressed his lips to hers.

It was the slow, warmglide of his mouth that always made her feel as though he were melting her from the inside out, and made her want to make him feel the same way. Between her injury, the fallout from Sirius' death, Emmeline's death, the Brockdale Bridge, Amelia's death, they'd had little time lately for anything more than these kisses.

There was so much to melt _through_ now, before it could reach _her_.

Remus slipped his knee to rest over her thigh; his fingers trailed down the curve of her neck and breast before he slipped them inside her robes and under the hem of her shirt. His lips still opened and closed softly on hers, but the kiss was more intent now, his tongue coaxing her to open to him. Tonks responded, rubbing her fingers along his stubbly chin and cheek and up to his hairline. His hand drifted up to her breast again.

At his low sound of pleasure, Tonks realised _she_ was not sighing or moaning softly as she usually did as his fingers worked their magic over her body. His index finger was tracing the sensitive skin along the edge of her bra in a way she usually found tantalising; his lips had left her mouth to leave a searing trail of kisses down her throat toward the unbuttoned neck of her shirt.

But she didn't feel it.

She wanted to feel it. She wanted to be engaged in the physical comfort Remus offered, wanted to lose herself in this intimate moment -- they were so few and far between these days. She caught his face between her hands and kissed him deeply. With another sound of approval, Remus shifted to straddle her body, rolling her onto her back.

Tonks did feel _that_. She loved his weight on her, pressing her into the flimsy sofa cushions. The power and passion of it didn't quite match his mild exterior and had taken her so pleasantly by surprise the first time they'd kissed like this.

Except she wasn't sure they'd ever kissed _quite _like this.

Private a man as Remus could be, he'd never been tentative about showing her his desire. But this was more than desire. There was a raw emotion in these kisses, an intense _need_.

What had Remus not said?

Was it about the war?

Sirius?

Whatever the need was, Tonks didn't feel at all up to meeting it.

She slid a hand down to rest against his chest. She intended to push him away, but he pressed into her, kissing with a greater urgency.

_He needed her._

Tonks had to at least _try _to meet that need. Remus deserved that much from her.

It wasn't her way to give up without trying. It would be good for her to think about something other than her own troubles.

Even if the alternative was to think about someone else's troubles.

She traced patterns on his jumper, taking in the gentle rise of his chest, the contours of his collarbones, beneath his jumper. Sliding her hands up to his narrow shoulders, they lingered again at the curve of his neck, revelling in the rapid beat of his pulse. It was pounding for _her_.

Feeling a corresponding surge of energy within her own body, Tonks pulled her mouth away just enough to tease Remus' lips with her tongue, just as he liked. His mouth curved in a smile, and when she parted her knees, inviting him to settling more fully against her, he gave another low moan and tangled his fingers in her hair.

_But her hair wasn't long enough for fingers to tangle in it. _

Abruptly, Tonks tore her mouth from his and clutched at her hair. Sure enough, the close-cropped locks had lengthened. They were still too short for her to see the colour, but apparently they'd gone something closer to the length she preferred.

"You changed it," said Remus huskily, smiling as he let her hair slide between his fingers.

"What colour?" It had been Tonks' natural black all day, but boyishly short--

--the hairstyle Amelia Bones always had worn.

Remus' smile fell. A crease formed between his eyebrows, and slowly spread across his forehead. "You didn't morph intentionally?"

Glancing down, Tonks shook her head. "I've had trouble controlling it."

Remus' frown deepened as he pushed up onto his elbows.

"It used to do this when I was a moody teenager," Tonks said quickly, tugging at his jumper to keep him from sitting up. Flashing a grin she didn't feel, she rolled her hips up into his.

Remus inhaled sharply and bit his lip.

"C'mon," Tonks whispered, stretching up to kiss his earlobe. "I'll bet you can make me go pink."

Remus' eyes fluttered closed as Tonks worked her way from his ear to his jaw, progressing back toward his mouth. Just as he reached it, Remus turned his head, and she only grazed the corner of his mouth.

Tonks pulled back. His eyes were shut, the expression on his face one of intense concentration.

He was bringing himself back under control.

"Remus?"

He opened his eyes, and the haze of pleasure gone. The blue had dulled again, and the fatigue returned.

"This isn't what you need right now," he said.

"No…" Tonks reached for his collar, and undid the button above the v-neck of his jumper. "I want to…It's what you need."

Remus shook his head, smiling faintly, and brushed a bit of fringe back from her forehead. "Not if we're not in the same place."

"I think we are in the same place." Tonks sighed heavily, and Remus rolled off of her so that they lay facing each other on the sofa once more. "I think that's the problem."

Remus' eyes flicked away.

"I'm sorry," Tonks whispered, gaze dropping to the sofa cushion between them.

Immediately Remus' gaze locked on her again, drawing hers to meet it. He looked so tenderly at her, and he covered her hand with his. "You don't need to apologise. You've just recovered from a serious injury, and you're under tremendous stress." His thumb scuffed her knuckles, and his voice became quieter. "You're entitled to not be in the mood."

Their fingers curled together as he leant in to brush his lips across her forehead. Tonks heard herself utter a very soft _thank you_, though her stomach twisted sickly that she'd actually made that admission. _He needed her_. It was plain in his troubled eyes.

"Maybe later," Tonks said.

Remus sat up, stretched and rubbed his hand over his cheek and chin, which were just shadowed with the traces of his beard coming in. He looked at her levelly. "Do you know what we need?"

"To catch all these sodding Death Eaters so we can have lots of uninterrupted sex?"

Grinning, Remus swung his feet to the floor and stood. "A date."

"You want to go out?"

"It's been far too long since I took you to dinner." Smile faltering, Remus raised a hand to play with the hair at his nape. He went on, quietly, "I just thought it might be good for us to get out and be around normal people, who aren't soldiering, and have a drink. But if you'd rather--"

"I wouldn't," Tonks interrupted. Remus stepped back to avoid getting his toes stomped on as she got up. She pecked his lips. "It's a good idea. Just give me ten minutes to get cleaned up?"

When Tonks went into the bathroom, she was gobsmacked to look in the mirror and see that her hair had not only grown, but had gone the same light, greying brown as Remus'

No wonder he'd looked troubled.

_To be continued..._

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_ **A/N: A different approach to Tonks' morphing issues and the beginning of the end of the relationship than I've taken before, but it's an angle I've wanted to explore for some time. **_

_**I'd love to know your thoughts about it -- as incentive, reviewers get to choose from several Remuses to help wind you down after a stressful day: intuitive Remus, who's waiting with wine and a bubble bath to take your mind off it completely; sexy Remus, who wants to kiss your troubles goodbye; or sensitive Remus, who knows there are some things kisses can't fix and wants tackle the root of things by talking it out over dinner (i.e., wining and dining Remus).**_


	2. Part Two

**Part Two**

"I should have taken you somewhere else."

Tonks only vaguely registered Remus' flat voice; it was the clatter of his fork against his plate that jolted her attention away from the purple Ministry of Magic Protection Against Dark Forces poster hanging over their corner table at the Leaky Cauldron.

"The point was to get away from soldiering." Remus took a drink of Firewhiskey, then dabbed the corners of his mouth with his napkin. "We should have gone to a Muggle pub."

"Muggle London's swarming with Dementors, too," Tonks said with a sigh, poking a sausage rather savagely with her fork. "I'd just be moping about how oblivious everyone is."

Remus' gaze was fixed downward as he paid too much attention to the simple task of spreading his napkin over his lap.

Now it was Tonks who dropped her silverware. "I'm sorry," she whimpered.

"Stop apologising." Remus reached across the table and caught her hand -- which, she suddenly realised -- was tugging at her hair.

"I know you hate it," he said quietly.

Yes. Tonks hated the mousy brown. Mostly because she couldn't change it. At least she'd got rid of the grey streaks.

Remus gently chafed her palm with his thumbs. "Please believe me when I say you're beautiful no matter what colour hair you've got."

How could she not believe him, when he said in those husky tones, that she was beautiful to him? Even if it wasn't true. Tonks gave him a little smile anyway, because she hated to see him worrying over her hair troubles. He brushed his lips across her knuckles.

It wasn't like Remus to be demonstrative in public. Tonks was surprised when he continued to hold her hand to his mouth even though he'd stopped kissing her fingers, and was staring dazedly at her. His fingers did not tighten around hers, but something in his grip changed from reassuring to needing assurance.

_He was clinging to her. _

"Remus, what--?"

"Is it me?"

Tonks blinked. Was it him? What in Merlin's name did he mean? She leant toward him, bumping her Firewhiskey with her elbow in the process. There was only a swallow or two left, so she ignored it.

"What do you mean, _is it_ _you_?"

Remus stared at his hands clasped around hers. "You say it's your mood. Earlier I…I didn't know what to say to help you, because my mood isn't…" Almost flustered, he looked up, eyes very bright in the dreary tavern and looking everywhere but at her. "I think it's self-explanatory, Tonks. Do my moods affect yours?"

The edge of the table was digging into her elbow, but Tonks knew pulling away from Remus at this moment wouldn't help matters. She was an Auror. She could deal with an awkward arm position.

She couldn't deal with this mad idea he'd suddenly got that their relationship wasn't good for her. Where on earth had it come from?

She brushed it aside. It was just a mood. He just needed talking out of it.

"Remus, I _love _you. Aren't couples supposed to be in tune with each other's emotions?"

For a moment, Remus regarded her with a neutral expression. Tonks' heart accelerated. Neutrality wasn't a good thing when it came to love. Not when it came to this sort of thing. What the bloody hell was he thinking?

Remus only confused her more when he kissed her hand again. "I love you, too."

Smiling, he nodded to her bangers and mash, and his shepherd's pie, both meals only picked at.

"Shall we Floo back to yours?" he asked. "Or would you like to see if we can't find something cheerful in Diagon Alley?"

"S'your place, too." Tonks stood too quickly and grabbing at the back of her chair till the dizzy rush of blood passed.

Really, they'd been together for ages, and even though he'd only moved in with her when the question arose of Grimmauld Place passing to Bellatrix Lestrange, Remus ought to be familiar enough to say things like, _Do you want to go home?_

Normally he did. That was what niggled.

Tonks bit her tongue to keep from bitching at him. Blokes always botched these things -- even good blokes like Remus. She was probably making too much of nothing. Her emotions were ridiculous today.

She threaded her arm through Remus' as he slid out of his side of the booth, and gestured to the Ministry poster. "I'll get a bit of cheer from going out after dark."

"You rebel."

It would have been a more satisfying act of rebellion if Diagon Alley hadn't been deserted due to everyone else taking the Ministry completely seriously. Not that Tonks could blame them, with the mists swirling with creepy fingers through the crooked streets.

The number of darkened shop windows -- closed too early -- didn't aid in the search for cheer. Something like excitement rose up in Tonks at the prospect of ogling the latest Firebolt model in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies; a purple Ministry poster plastered over the display squelched the feeling. Next to it, as if to frighten people into total compliance, Bellatrix leered from a wanted poster.

The heavy-lidded eyes drew Tonks in. She vaguely heard Remus say, "Come on, Tonks, let's go on," but neither that nor his tug on her hand could stop her from falling, falling, from the dais in the Department of Mysteries, whilst her aunt taunted in that deranged baby-talk: _"Oopsy-daisy, ickle mudblood fweak! Peek-a-boo! Auntie Bella hexed you!" _

"Nymphadora!" Remus' arms were around her waist, and he grunted -- an _ooph_ of exertion.

Tonks snapped alert. Remus was holding her up; her knees must have buckled.

His eyes peered anxiously down at her. "Do you need--?"

"Just to get away from these damn posters."

Tonks forced herself to stand, and then to take shaky steps. Remus kept a hand on her elbow, but it wasn't a sure, guiding hand. Tonks felt keen eyes studying her. She didn't look at him. She didn't want to see him blaming himself.

Or him doubting her.

She kept walking, but didn't look at anything. She didn't want to see Bellatrix's face, or to hear those words again. Maybe they ought to go--

"Here's Madam Malkin's." Remus stopped abruptly, and Tonks tripped over a crack in the pavement. His hold on her elbow tightened, steadying her. "She's open. Shall we go in?"

"I could get a hat to hide this god-awful hair."

Remus released her arm and glanced at the door and shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets. "It's gone back to your colour."

_Her _colour.

Tonks' hand flew to her hair. Thick. Long. A black mane cascading her shoulders and back. Bellatrix's face leered, surrounded by the same--

_No. Her _colour. Not the Blacks'. Not Bellatrix's.

Tonks hand fell to her side, and her hair fell in her face. "That damn poster."

With a jangle, Madam Malkin's front door swung open.

"Professor Lupin!"

They turned to see a moon-faced teenaged boy coming out. Tonks didn't know him, but she instantly recognised famed Auror Alice Longbottom's son.

_Alice Longbottom, tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange._

The Longbottom boy -- Neville, Tonks remembered from the _Daily Prophet _stories about the Department of Mysteries battle -- stopped short, mouth falling open as he saw Tonks.

_Oh dear Merlin._

Instantly, Tonks turned and scrunched up her face, willing her hair to at least morph into short spikes no Black would dream of wearing, if not to a colour that had never been passed down through that family tree.

As the weight of that thick black hair vanished from her shoulders, Tonks felt as if all the Dementors had fled Diagon Alley.

She let out a deep breath and turned back to see Remus doing the same. The colour had returned to Neville's face, and behind him in the shop door stood his grandmother.

Tonks glanced at Remus and noted a tug at the corner of his mouth as his gaze drifted up to the vulture hat perched on her old-fashioned coif.

"Hello Neville," he said.

The teenager's round face split in a grin; clearly he shared Remus' thoughts.

Even if Tonks hadn't known the story behind that conspiratorial glance, she was sure it would have made her smile to see the rapport. Remus was a good man. The best of wizards. She was lucky, very lucky, to have him in her life.

"Gran," said Neville, suddenly red in the face, "This is--"

"I know Remus Lupin," Mrs. Longbottom cut him off, brushing past her grandson to greet the adults. "He was a great friend of your parents'." She shifted a number of shopping bags and cordially extended her hand. "What a pity that the Ministry have not seen the value of effective Defence Against the Dark Arts instructors such as yourself during these dark times."

Remus' eyebrows arched, and a mixture of surprise and self-consciousness laced his frozen smile. "Thank you," he said, voice rising at the end in a question.

Tonks snorted with unexpected laughter as she wondered suddenly what Mrs. Longbottom would say if she knew how "effective instructors" like Remus taught defence against Boggarts.

Mrs. Longbottom turned to her. "Nymphadora Tonks. You look exactly like-"

Tonks felt as though a Bludger had burst from the display of Quality Quidditch Supplies, torn through Bellatrix's picture, and struck her squarely in the stomach. Dear Merlin, why was her morphing all buggered--

"--your mother at your age."

Tonks had barely caught her breath before Mrs. Longbottom snatched it away with another Bludger-like statement. "Your mother must be very proud of your heroism in this war." Without waiting for a response, she continued, shoulders held proudly erect, "I have just taken Neville to purchase a new wand, since his was broken in the fight at the Ministry."

Neville took out his new wand to show Remus, and Remus voiced approval that it was an excellent implement for defensive spells -- _Riddikulus _in particular, he added with a wink. All the while, Tonks puzzled over Mrs. Longbottom. Here was a witch who'd lost a son and daughter-in-law to the last war -- perhaps in a way worse than death; yet she was out with her grandson when the Ministry declared it unsafe, praising his role in a battle with Death Eaters he never should have been present at.

Tonks' parents hadn't said in so many words, but she'd read anxiety between the stiff lines in their owls, heard the strain in their voices and seen the troubled looks in their eyes when they Flooed. She knew that if they'd ever been able to change her mind about anything, they'd try to talk her into a career change.

Especially if they knew about her morphing issues.

"Have you been to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?" Neville, sheathing his wand, asked Remus. "It's _brilliant_. I--"

"I hope you are not getting any mad notions," Mrs. Longbottom interjected, "about leaving school."

"Oh no, Gran!" Neville's face went red again as he shook his head. "I like Herbology too much. I want to get my NEWT." With a guilty glance at Remus, he swallowed hard and added, "DADA, too, if I can, but I can't say for sure till they announce the new professor."

Tonks felt a brief pang for Remus, but it was quelled by Remus' kind smile. He didn't let ends spoil the memory of the good times that came before. He healed from hurts, without becoming embittered or desensitised.

"The Weasley twins _do_ seem to have some sense in selling Defence products," Mrs. Longbottom said, generously. "Well, Neville, we'd best be on our way home. A pleasure, Mr. Lupin, Auror Tonks."

"Bye!" Neville waved over his shoulder as he took the shopping bags from his grandmother.

"That was something cheerful in Diagon Alley," said Remus as they watched the boy bound along beside Mrs. Longbottom as she walked briskly back to the Leaky Cauldron.

"I imagine it's lovely to know you're still the most popular teacher," Tonks said.

Remus ducked his head and nudged the pavement crack with his toe, but he did look pleased. "If I were a _really _good teacher, I wouldn't have had favourites. But I can't deny I like Neville very much."

"I reckon even McGonagall and Flitwick have their favourites. And I've a feeling in McGonagall's case, you're one of them."

"I thought only former pranksters secretly liked mischievous students best."

"Maybe Minerva was a hellion in her day. I know you've seen how she is about Quidditch."

Chuckling, Remus tilted his head toward the shop. "So you pass on browsing Madam Malkin's?"

"I like Gladrags better," Tonks replied, taking Remus' arm again and pulling him away from the shop. "I can't shake the old memories of Mum dragging me in here and forcing me to wear sensible robes."

"Thanks," said Remus dryly, "for letting me know how you really feel about my clothes."

"I didn't say--"

"Your wrinkled nose did."

He shot her a look of mock offence, which, if she'd been in a lighter mood, Tonks would have struggled very hard not to laugh at. As it was, she retained a good poker face.

"Really, Nymphadora, you looked like you'd just been force-fed Bobotuber Pus."

"I did not!"

Remus quirked an eyebrow.

Tonks released his arm and scowled. "You know I like _your _sensible robes."

It seemed impossible that an eyebrow could arch that high.

"Really, Remus. I just can't picture you in--" Further down the street, she spied one of the Weasley twins -- too far away for her to tell which -- outside the joke shop, hanging a purple poster on the front window. "--in magenta robes."

"Oh, I think you'd secretly fancy me in magenta robes."

"I think you secretly fancy wearing them, and I can't believe Fred and George are actually putting up those bloody posters."

"I can't believe you would think for a minute that's what George is actually doing."

Sure enough, as they approached number ninety-three, Tonks saw, instead of the Ministry of Magic seal, flashing yellow words on the purple backdrop:

WHY ARE YOU WORRIED ABOUT

YOU-KNOW-WHO?

YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT U-NO-POO --

THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION

THAT'S GRIPPING THE NATION!

Tonks gawped. She waited for laughter…

…for an age.

Dammit, why wouldn't it come? This was the sort of thing she always thought funny. Hilarious. She ought to be rolling on the pavement, laughing her socks off. Her mind echoed with her own earlier comment about oblivious Muggles. But she didn't think Fred and George were oblivious. Just cheeky.

_Why wasn't she bloody laughing?_

Finally, she managed a little snort of amusement. Uncharacteristic, and almost as annoying as not laughing at all.

Worse, Tonks arched up on her toes, and as Remus leant close, she heard herself murmur, "Molly will murder them."

Remus' fingers tickled her skin as he cupped his hand around her ear; his breath made the hairs on the back of her neck stand as he whispered, "That's probably why Fred and George aren't terribly concerned about Voldemort."

"It's true." George turned suddenly from the window. His eyes rounded at the sight of her, then he flashed a grin and went on smoothly as he approached them, "If you'd ever been the victim of Mum's mouth-washing charms, you wouldn't bat an eye at _Crucio_."

Remus chuckled, but Tonks didn't. Of course the twins would have planted their bloody Extendable Ears all over the premises. And maybe the twins _were_ oblivious, after all; could any sensitive person see Neville Longbottom and then joke about Unforgivable Curses like that?

But Remus wasn't taking it too seriously.

And _she_ wasthe one with manic hair.

George shook Remus' hand, then turned an appraising eye on Tonks. "_Molly will murder them_? I never thought I'd live to see you talk like a fuddy-duddy, Tonks, or wear an ordinary hair colour."

Tonks' hands balled into fists at her sides as she restrained herself from reaching for her wand and casting her first Bat Bogey Hex in years. George wasn't being mean. He didn't know…

George shook his head and sighed dramatically, then cut his eyes slyly. "Or is it Nymphadora now?"

"I'll never be enough of an old stuffer for _that _name," Tonks shot back. No longer able to resist the urge, she whipped out her wand and wagged it at him. "And you'd--"

Out the corner of her eye, she saw Remus smirking. Of course he was dying to say he knew what she could be enough of to go by Nymphadora.

Now it was her face that was changing colour without her permission; frankly, it was a relief not to be able to blame it on her powers.

And at least her temper cooled.

"I'd think," Tonks said, "after living with your mum and Ginny, you'd know better than to cross powerful witches. Or to eavesdrop on them."

George actually went wide-eyed and pale, and he stepped backward. Remus was looking at her now, a grin threatening to break through his smirk.

Tonks twirled her wand. "_Accio _George'sExtendable Ears!"

Two flew from George's ears, along with a pair from the ground at their feet, into her hand.

"Don't worry, I won't hex you," Tonks said, pocketing them, "'cause I'm still bloody impressed with these things."

George's laughter was a strange sound in the quiet street. One wizened old crone sweeping rubbish at the next corner peered warily from under the brim of her hat. The joke shop door burst open, and Fred strode out -- also laughing -- perfectly aware of what had just taken place.

"As proprietors of a new establishment," he said loudly, "George and I are wearing them all the time for the first few weeks so we know what the public are saying about us."

Remus exchanged a look of bemusement with Tonks, then leant toward the twins conspiratorially. "I'm fairly certain that sort of practice isn't precisely _legal_. You might consider not admitting to it in front of an Auror."

Tonks pointed her wand in his face. "Are you asking to be arrested along with this pair as an accessory to the crime?"

The twins sprang forward and, one on either side, looped their arms through hers.

"No arrests till you've seen the joke shop," said George as they steered her toward the door.

"Why?" Tonks asked, glancing over her shoulder at Remus, who followed with his hands in his pockets, shoulders shaking as he chuckled. "Because then I'll have more on you?"

"You'd never lock up such brilliance." Fred flicked his wand to open the front doors, then released her arm to make a sweeping bow. "Welcome to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

Tonks found herself hanging back as Fred and George started their tour. Her ears rang as they talked boisterously, one starting in when the other paused to take a breath. She felt dizzy as they zigzagged all over the shop, with no rhyme or reason to which displays they showed off.

Maybe she was a fuddy-duddy, after all.

Or else she'd just got used to the fear-induced quiet, and the weighty gloom of the Dementors.

Her mum had warned her that Aurors got old before their time.

Those grey hairs might not be a morphing issue.

Yet she defied her mum to see Remus, with his grey hair and lined face, and say _he'd _aged before his time.

Remus had been fighting dark forces all his life, and still had a smile on his face and a light in his eyes. He didn't even look tired anymore. There was a spring in his step, and he kept up with the twins. Really, he might be nearly twenty years older, and maintain his ever-present sophistication as he compared the twins' merchandise to Zonko's; but with his fringe falling in his eyes as he chuckled at Nosebleed Nougats and Puking Pastilles, Remus looked every bit as boyish as Fred and George.

"You know," Remus said, growing serious again as he scanned the shelves of Skiving Snackboxes, "I've some notes that could be quite useful to you in your development of skiving products."

"Marauder tips?" Fred asked, exchanging an eager look with his twin.

Tonks caught Remus' eye, then rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Please don't make me arrest you for instigating Magical truancy."

Smothering a grin, Remus turned to the twins. "In my capacity as professor, my conscience never allowed me to tell you, but I kept a journal of every prank you two and your mate Lee Jordan tried to pull over on me--"

"_--tried _being the operative word," interrupted Fred, looking at Tonks.

George added, "We never got a single thing past him."

"Not surprising, of course."

"No -- not from the brilliant and dastardly mind behind the Marauder's Map."

Remus ducked his head slightly, but his grin was wide. "That was mostly Sirius."

As the three laughed over some of the more ingenious pranks, it occurred to Tonks that in all the times she'd heard Remus talk about his year of teaching, the only vibe she'd ever got from him was that he'd thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Though Dumbledore had primarily recruited Remus because Harry needed a bodyguard, and though Remus had known the job wouldn't last -- either because of his condition or the curse -- he'd seized the time he had. That year remained something good to hold on to.

She shouldn't have let that moment with him at her flat slip away.

"Anyway," Remus was saying, "now that you pair no longer risk expulsion, and I am just a friend, I'll copy out the pertinent parts of my journal, with notes on how you might have accomplished your goals, and owl them to you."

"Or," said George, looking as though he'd just had an epiphany about the next prank sensation to sweep the nation, "you could come to work for us in product development."

"We want to expand our line of Defence products," Fred added.

"Ah yes--" With a pleasant smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, Remus turned and absently picked up a Headless Hat. "Neville Longbottom's grandmother was just singing their praises."

The twins shared a befuddled look, then went off about how Mrs. Longbottom lectured them about the fates of wizards who left school and didn't earn any NEWTs.

Tonks was only vaguely aware of what they were saying, distracted with puzzling out the prior exchange. Something about the twins' job offer had seemed almost sincere; Remus had deflected it. Why? Had he felt pitied? Or did it hurt to know that even if his friends did want to employ him, they couldn't?

Whatever the reason, the odd look was banished by Remus' laughter at the twins' account of Mrs. Longbottom's visit.

Still, Tonks responded to the inner prompting to stand next to Remus. Out of habit, she slipped her hand into his, threading their fingers together -- only to realise, as his eyes rounded slightly, that Fred and George were part of the younger set they'd avoided letting on about their relationship to.

As though it were some prank merchandise about to get the better of her, she dropped Remus' hand.

"Would you change the name of the shop if you took Remus on?" she asked quickly, high-pitched and shaky, hoping the twins hadn't noticed the more-than-platonic action.

Without giving it a thought, Fred blurted, "Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and Moony's Mischief Management."

George gave Tonks a significant look before glancing slyly up at Remus. "Or Remus' Romantic Rendezvous?"

Ribbons of heat raced up Tonks' neck. She snatched the Headless Hat from Remus and put it on, immediately wishing she hadn't. Bit more obvious than blushing, making your head go invisible. Whipping it off, she avoided the sniggering twins' eyes by replacing it haphazardly on the display.

"Maybe we ought to get Remus in love potion or daydream development," said George.

Remus cleared his throat. "As a fellow prankster, I take great offence that you'd think I need love potions to get dates."

To Tonks surprise, Remus grabbed her hand, raised it to his lips, and bestowed a dramatic kiss on the back. His blue eyes twinkled up at her from beneath his fringe. The ghosts of the earlier doubts he'd expressed fled.

"Also," Tonks said, turning to the twins as a smile bloomed, "he's crap at potions."

Fred and George hooted, and Remus shot Tonks a playful glower. She squeezed his hand; he squeezed it back…

…and his gaze flickered down at her lips.

A swarm of butterflies took flight inside of Tonks. She knew Remus would never be so demonstrative as to give her a proper kiss in public. The way her stomach muscles tensed at the sight of how tempted he was nearly as invigorating as the touch of his lips would have been.

She was well on her way to being in the mood later.

Hopefully he still would be.

"Blokes with a sense of humour always get interesting girls," George said.

The butterflies stopped fluttering, as though swatted away. An interesting girls. With a good personality. Tonks knew she was hardly _Playwitch _centrefold material, but she'd thought she had a little more going for her than her hair.

"And the hot ones," Fred added, looking her up and down and giving an appreciative -- but exaggerated -- wink.

"Thank you, Fred," said Remus. For a moment Tonks' heart sank further into her stomach as he let go of her hand. It leapt again when he slipped his arm around her, settling his hand more intimately on her hip. "Can I count on you to be my partner in this business after my girlfriend has hexed your twin to oblivion?"

"As a token of our goodwill," George said, actually looking slightly flustered, "would you pair fancy a sneak peek at our newest Defence product?"

Tonks cast a wary eye at the twins. "D'you mean you'd like us to be test subjects?"

"Just your clothes," Fred said.

"We'd be honoured to lend our clothes to a Weasleys Wizard Wheeze," said Remus.

Tonks looked up at Remus. "Have you gone mental? We'll end up starkers in front of them, for sure."

"You won't end up starkers," said George with a wave of his hand that was anything but reassuring.

"It's Polyesterjuice Potion," Fred added, as though it explained everything.

"Polyesterjuice Potion?" Tonks and Remus asked at once.

"Yup!" said George. "The clothes change sensation that's sweeping--"

Fred whacked his twin on the back of the head. "I told you, you great wally, we can't keep using that over and--"

George returned the whack then, as if there had been no break in the explanation about what in hell Polyesterjuice Potion was, he flashed a charming grin at Tonks and Remus. "It's for the witch or wizard who isn't very handy with Transfiguration, but needs a quick disguise."

"Well," said Tonks, "Remus and I are both _very_ handy with Transfiguration, so I'm afraid you'll have to--"

"You'll have to forgive Nymphadora for being a fuddy-duddy," Remus cut in, letting go of her waist and shaking his head at her sadly. "All that time around Mad-Eye--"

"I am _not _a fuddy-duddy!" Tonks' hands flew to her hips. "And _don't_ call me Nymphadora!"

Remus winked. It was infuriating.

And sexy.

Tonks had to fight very hard to maintain her glare.

"I'll test your potion." Remus stepped bravely toward the twins.

"You'll be sorry," Tonks said.

Remus merely laughed as the twins swept him back to their office.

While they were gone, Tonks browsed the shop. Spying a mirror, she was unable to resist looking into it, even though she knew she wouldn't like what she saw. Black hair just made her look so _peaky_. She was in better spirits, now, though. Maybe…

She scrunched up her face, visualising bubblegum pink.

A prickle at her scalp.

Her heart leapt.

Bubblegum pink…Vivid, brilliant bubblegum--

She jumped, upsetting the mirror and dooming herself to seven years of bad luck when uproarious laughter erupted from behind the closed door. Fred's and George's. No trace of Remus' low chuckle. That didn't bode well. Something thumped loudly on the floor. She imagined one of the twins falling on the floor laughing.

Poor Remus…

She really wanted to see what they'd done to him.

As Tonks cast a _Reparo _over the mirror and wondered if her bad luck would be seven years of morphing issues, the office door creaked on its hinges and swung open. Fred and George staggered out, almost drunkenly, faces exactly matching their robes, and swiping tears from their eyes.

"Miss Tonks…" Fred started, then collapsed into laughter against George's shoulder. Tonks giggled at his rather vain effort to compose himself with deep breaths. At last he straightened up and said, "We'd like to introduce you to your date."

George gave his wand a flick, and a scarf tied itself around Tonks' forehead, covering her eyes. "His name's Remus Lupin."

Taking her hand and tugging her, presumably, toward the office, Fred said, "He's sitting in my chair…"

They stopped walking and said, in unison, "And he's wearing…"

The blindfold fell away from Tonks' eyes as Remus' rather choked voice said, "…Walburga Black's clothes."

Tonks gawped.

Yes, that was Remus Lupin seated behind Fred's desk.

Her boyfriend, Remus. Former prefect, professor, powerful wizard, respected Order member…

Wearing a deep purple dress.

A _silk _dress.

He stood -- gingerly, holding tightly to the armrests -- then daintily picked his way around the desk.

He was wearing dark grey, opalescent snakeskin stilettos.

Remus _would _be able to walk in high heels.

"Note the carefully matched shoes and handbag," said George.

Remus turned, and sure enough, over his shoulder hung a large snakeskin purse that might have been stylish in the seventies.

Tonks' gaze travelled upward from the purse to a hat that made Augusta Longbottom's look plain and ordinary as Tonks in her natural hair. Perched on the brim was the vulture-like head of an Augurey; in the back, glossy black feathers fanned out wide.

"I see you admire the Augurey hat," Fred said. "The feathers of the Irish Phoenix, as the bird is also known, repel both rain and ink. The ideal hat for the stylish professor."

Tonks stepped forward for a closer look at a stole of mahogany-coloured fur.

"Is that a--?"

"A Jarvey, yes," said Remus cheerfully, patting the once-living creature's stuffed head. "Sirius bought his mother one -- a live one -- for Christmas, to chase the garden gnomes. It kept saying very rude things to her, so she had it made into a stole."

Tonks turned to the twins, who were doubled over laughing. "How did you get--?"

"When the Order cleared out Grimmauld Place…" Fred said.

"…we nicked out a few things we thought might be useful," George finished.

"And it just happened we got the idea for Polyesterjuice Potion soon after…"

Tonks turned back to Remus. "Is this worse than being starkers?"

His cheeks were tinged with the faintest pink, but otherwise he showed no sign of embarrassment as he said with perfect seriousness, "I'm just glad I didn't end up wearing Kreacher's loincloth."

For a moment, Tonks stared at him. Remus stared back.

The corner of his mouth twitched.

It twitched again.

And again.

And then a smile cracked across his face and laughter burst out of him. Tonks' peals rang out with his, and soon her ears were ringing and her vision was blurred with tears. It became impossible to stand upright, and when she reached for Remus for support, they both collapsed -- Remus into a chair, losing his hat in the process, and Tonks onto his lap.

She laughed till there was no more laughter, and her eyes were dry and her cheeks were sticky and she was tired and her abdominal muscles _hurt_. But it was a good hurt, and a good tired. Laying her head on Remus' silk-clad shoulder -- avoiding the Jarvey head -- because she'd used up all her energy laughing, was utter contentment.

"Do you want to try it, Tonks?" George's voice was accompanied by the squeak of a cupboard door.

Tonks turned her head just enough to see the twins. "Will I end up in Kreacher's loincloth?"

Remus' body quivered with laughter against hers.

"You'll end up in witch's clothes, we promise." The laughter in Fred's words wasn't very convincing. "We gave Remus this bottle just to finally pull one over on him."

"You did _not_ pull one over on me," Remus protested hoarsely. "I knew you'd have me in some embarrassing get-up."

"But you didn't know it would be _that_," said George.

Remus smiled pleasantly. "I was overdue for cosmic payback for my boggart escapades."

When the twins' laughter died, they leant close at the cupboard, whispering about which of the phials in the cupboard to test on Tonks.

"I'm completely mad to do this," she said, turning her face into the curve of Remus' neck.

"Indeed. But I admire a woman who's a few Bertie Botts short of a bag. Makes me feel better about getting myself into situations like this."

Tonks sat up and looked him over. Physically unable to really laugh, she voiced her amusement with an unladylike snort. "I'm glad I'm not the only one who looks peaky in purple."

Remus reached up and pushed a bit of fringe back from her face. "As a matter of fact, your hair's purple."

"It is?" She looked up to see, but of course succeeded only in straining her eye muscles, with nothing to show for it.

"Violently so," Remus said, smiling as he ran his fingers through the spikes that must be dishevelled now. "And peaky is the last word I'd use to describe you."

Tonks read in his eyes several _much_ nicer descriptions than peaky. She was half-tempted to Apparate them back to her flat without a word to the twins, so he could say them. And so he could kiss her, as the way his eyes kept darting down to her mouth, indicated he wanted to.

"Bottoms up!" George thrust his hand between Tonks' and Remus' faces. Tonks nearly went cross-eyed as he held a phial in front of her nose.

Tonks took it and warily un-corked it. "If I end up in a bra and knickers, I _will _arrest you pair."

"If you end up in a bra and knickers, I shall Disapparate us _immediately_," said Remus gallantly -- even though the idea behind it was anything but -- wrapping his arm a little more firmly around her waist.

The twins sniggered.

Tonks drank. "Mm," she said. "Tastes like--"

"You only need one sip," said Fred, taking the phial from her.

Tonks didn't care anymore what it tasted like, because her jeans had just vanished.

And her t-shirt -- no -- only the sleeves of her t-shirt. And the neck. It had got longer at the bottom, covering her thighs, but ending several inches shy of her knees.

Worn pink cotton became lurid green dragonhide.

A strapless, dragonhide dress.

With shiny knee-high boots complete with lethal heels. Really, it was a good job she wasn't standing.

She glowered down at the stilettos Remus had walked in so gracefully.

Though, she reckoned it meant they were a well-rounded couple if one of them could do it. They were unconventional in so many other ways, why not the realm of high-heels, as well?

Suddenly Tonks became aware that Remus' warm hand was resting awfully close to her bum. With her legs draped over the arm of the chair, she must be giving the twins an eyeful. She slid them off, heels clunking on the floor. Holding tightly to Remus' shoulders, she stood, wobbly as a newborn unicorn, on her three-inch heels.

His shoulder shifted slightly as he reached to tug at the high neck of the purple silk dress. He looked truly ridiculous -- thank Merlin the hat had fallen off at least -- but seeing his Adam's apple bob against the fabric, noting the darkened eyes that were only for _her_, after she'd looked like crap most of the day thanks to her stupid emotions getting the better of her magic, she felt warm and tingly all over.

"How long…" Remus' voice cracked. He cleared his throat, and repeated, "How long will it take for our clothes to change back?"

Fred dropped his eyes, chagrined. "Just an hour."

"An hour's no good," said Remus.

"Maybe that's what you could do for us," George suggested. "Help us figure how to strengthen the formula."

"Tonks said he's crap at Potions."

"Remus doesn't care about how long the Potion works for your customers," Tonks said, taking a tottering step backward so Remus could stand, and clutching at his hands as he did. "He wants to know how long I'll be wearing this. He likes it. Or…"

She pulled Remus down so she could whisper in his ear. "…maybe you're thinking about how long you've got to get me home and get me out of it?"

Remus' eyes darkened, and the muscle worked just beneath his cheek.

Fred coughed. "C'mon, George, lets leave these two alone to admire each other's dresses."

"Or to help each other with their hard to reach buttons."

Tonks whipped her head over her shoulder. "We are _not _doing any unbuttoning here. Not with you pair of voyeurs and your Extendable Ears!"

"A troll could have figured out that you want Remus out of his dress," said George.

"Though I somehow doubt for the same reason," Remus said, glancing down at his outfit with the first sign of distaste he'd shown. Tonks hadn't realised how much she was hoping for that sign till relief washed over her.

"If you drink the one Tonks just drank," Fred said to Remus, "you'll be in the bloke version of her outfit."

Tonks laughed, glancing down at the chartreuse dress. "Your jackets!"

The twins beamed.

"Brilliant, really, gents," said Tonks, patting their shoulders. "You're going to be millionaires."

"But Tonks isn't wearing trousers," Remus said. "I'd rather be stuck in this dress than have no trousers."

Fred waggled his eyebrows. "Don't you trust us?"

"Why d'you need trousers, anyway?" George asked. "Won't it save time?"

For a man who was so discreet about his love life, it apparently took a lot more than a few ribald jokes to embarrass him. Of course, he'd been best mates with Sirius…

Maybe he needed this. Maybe it was healing.

In his typical artlessly graceful way, Remus whipped out his wand and waved it lazily over himself. Tonks had never been happier to see his tatty trousers and shapeless grey jumper over a white shirt.

"Fortunately," he said with his pleasant smile, "I'm quite handy at Transfiguration."

George chortled, and Fred, grinning hugely, stuck out a hand for Remus to shake. "Good job, not trusting us."

"Oh, but that's just it -- I _do _trust you, implicitly." Remus withdrew his hand, and wrapped it around Tonks' waist, pulling her snug against his side. "This really is a wonderful shop. Thanks for the tour. And Tonks' dress."

Tonks' goodbye was cut off by the crack of Disapparation.

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_**  
A/N: As always, your feedback is much appreciated. This time, reviewers will get to administer Polyesterjuice Potion to Remus to dress him in their outfit of choice.**_

_**Be sure to stop by MetamorFicMoon at LiveJournal for your fill of Remus/Tonks Christmas fics!**_


	3. Part Three

**_A/N: My apologies for the delay in posting the conclusion. Christmas has been a little hectic, and I needed to finish a piece for the MetamorFicMoon Fic Advent before I got around to the revisions on this one. (Alerts aren't working again; I've begun posting the Christmas fic, which is called "The Hopes and Fears of All the Years.") _**

* * *

**Part Three**

The stretching and pulling sensations of Apparition didn't end when Tonks' feet settled wobbly on the hardwood floor of her flat. Remus continued to hold her body against his in a tight embrace, as he bent and kissed her deeply.

Tonks responded immediately to his insistent lips and tongue, opening to him, but did not merely yield. This time, she felt his kiss -- to her very core -- and she kissed him back with everything he gave.

His long-fingered hands splayed, one firmly in the small of her back, the other skirting up above the dragonhide dress to her exposed shoulders; Tonks held his face, roughened by his slight growth of beard, and scratched her fingernails lightly over his scalp as she pushed his hair back from his face, weaving her fingers into the soft strands. He made a low sound, and Tonks smiled against his lips as pleasure swelled warmly, deep within her. It went so far beyond physical pleasure, to know that she was the source of _his_. She was capable, now he'd pulled her from her introverted despair, of soothing his troubles, of meeting his needs.

She gasped as, quite suddenly, the warmth of his mouth was focused on the hollow of her throat. Her fingers burrowed deeper into his hair as it tickled her cheek. She hoped to Merlin he knew she was ready for what he'd started on the sofa before dinner. Where was the sofa? If she could just pull him toward it...

Through the heated haze, Tonks was vaguely aware of her legs taking backward steps as Remus pressed into her, moving forward. He was steering her somewhere -- to the sofa, Tonks guessed, but she really couldn't be sure of anything except his lips opening and closing over her neck...the tip of his tongue above the top of her dress, tasting the valley of her breasts...his hands trailing down her back, down the curves of her hips, palms opening to cup her bottom...Until the backs of her knees connected with what could only be the edge of her bed, padded by the fluffy duvet spilling over the end.

Arms snaking under Remus', she laughed on his shoulder, breath making the fine, light hairs at his nape rise, as she realised he'd Apparated them directly to the bedroom; her laughter ceased as it occurred to her that he'd left the bed unmade today. That was a new one for Remus. Whatever had disturbed him today had happened early.

"Remus...?" she started to inquire, but then his hands tightened under her thighs, and she was wrapping her legs around his as he lifted her up onto the lumpy mattress, springs groaning, driving housekeeping to the farthest reaches of her mind.

Remus remained standing between her knees. One of his lovely hands rested on her thigh -- for balance, she supposed, as he reached back with the other to unlace his shoes and peel off his socks; or maybe not for balance, she quite happily debated, as his fingertips seemed to be revelling in skating over the green dragonhide that fitted her like a skin. When he moved his hand away to take off his jumper Tonks, regardless of her boots, swung her legs onto the bed and shifted to lie back against the pillows.

"You really do like this dress," she said, giggling as he tossed his jumper carelessly on the floor with his shoes, eyes roving appreciatively over her, darkening, all the while.

"I like the dress _on you_." The bed screeched again as he crawled onto the end, touching her ankle and sliding his hand upward over her boot-encased calf. "And the boots, as well."

"I like your lips on me more," said Tonks.

"Hm..." Remus trailed his hand up over her knee and thigh as he stretched out on his side next to her. "I think I might, too."

Hooking one leg over her thighs, his bare foot rubbed along the inside of her calf as he pressed warm kisses to her bare shoulder, progressing over her collarbone and lingering in the sensitive dip just beneath.

It wasn't easy to think, much less to put those half-baked thoughts into words when he was kissing her like that, and sliding his hand over her breasts. Getting his shirt unbuttoned seemed like the most important matter at hand; somehow, as Tonks fumbled with the top closure, she managed to say, "I'll have to get an outfit like this for your Christmas present."

She expected to hear a sound of approval, but instead Remus lifted his head -- her skin went cold where his mouth had been -- and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "I'm not entirely sure what to do with this new information about your cross-dressing kink."

"I meant for _me_ to wear _around_ you!" Tonks yanked her pillow from under her head and whacked him with it. A few feathers shot out, swirled in the air for a moment as though suspended, and then fluttered into Remus' hair like snowflakes. "I _don't _have a cross-dressing kink!"

Shaking his head, Remus prised the pillow from her hands, and dropped it over the edge of the bed.

"I need that!" Tonks pulled a pout.

Remus sat up; Tonks bit her lip at the brush of his thighs over her as he situated his legs to straddle her waist.

"Admit it, Nymphadora," he said huskily, leaning over her to slide the other pillow under her head. "You secretly fancy me in a green dragonhide mini-dress."

The sight of Remus dressed up in Walburga Black's clothes had been hilarious, in a slightly disturbing way; the imagined sight Remus dressed up in Tonks' outfit was simply a disturbing image. Tonks forced herself not to shudder and, working her way down Remus' line of buttons, she said seriously, "I think you secretly fancy wearing a green dragonhide mini-dress. But don't worry. You're the only trannie who's ever turned me on."

"Trannie!" Remus had just wriggled one arm out of his shirt, but now it hung from one shoulder as he looked up with rounded eyes.

"Snape in drag wouldn't do a thing for me."

His eyes went even wider, and Tonks felt her own do the same. She _would _be the one to bring up the worst topic for pillow talk in the history of foreplay.

"That's a relief," said Remus, "though hardly a compliment to look sexier in a dress than Severus." He slipped his arm out of he other sleeve and, not seeming to care that his shirt became tangled with the sheets, he leant over her again. "But _trannie_?"

Remus' fingers traced the top edge of her dress, then he stretched his long, slim frame over hers to press more lingering kisses to her cleavage. A hot flush raced over her from the places his lips touched, and her pounding heart had lodged in her throat. Floating along in the light-headed sensations, even though they hadn't really got started yet, Tonks slid her hands over his smooth chest.

"I assure you, Nymphadora," Remus murmured, "the only dress I'm interested in is this one, and those thoughts are _entirely_ driven by testosterone."

Tonks raked her hands through Remus' hair and tried to bring her breathing under control. When she managed to, she asked, "Green dragonhide's your kink, then?"

"Mmm…We ought to do up the entire bedroom in it…"

Remus' deep chuckle vibrated against her, and Tonks loved the feel of it, as well as the prickle of his stubble against her skin as he moved upward to nuzzle her cheek.

"You'd better get this dress off of me," she whispered, "before it turns back to my un-sexy old jeans and t-shirt."

Peering up through his fringe, Remus met her eyes, and the desire in them as his hands cupped her breasts made her wish to Merlin he would vanish the dress immediately. But his fingers stroked the dragonhide almost reluctantly.

"I'd leave it on for you," Tonks said, "but I don't think it allows for proper…manoeuvring. And then there's that spell wearing off thing again. Though if you're really into me in clingy green, I could always morph my skin this colour."

Always crap at sexy talk, Tonks expected Remus to laugh. But he didn't. Something very much like relief washed over his features.

"You're feeling back to normal again?" he asked.

"You're completely mental if you think green skin's in any way _normal_," Tonks teased, though she couldn't believe she wasn't literally bursting with joy at the thought that she could make her skin green if she wanted, and Remus would be okay with that. "I think I still need a bit of help getting my hair to go pink."

A lopsided grin on his face, Remus rolled off her and shimmied backward toward the end of the bed. He lifted one of her legs and, eyes on hers, slowly lowered the zipper of the boot. "I'm correct to assume that _help_ involves getting you naked?"

He bent and kissed the back of her knee as he pulled off the shoe, and Tonks squirmed and murmured something unintelligible -- but which Remus apparently was fluent in. When he'd removed the other boot, he kissed his way up her legs, lingering on the insides of her thighs as he pushed up the hem of the dress.

"Maybe you ought to open a shop called Remus' Romantic Rendezvous after all," said Tonks as she turned onto her side to give him access to the zipper on the side of her dress.

Getting out of the skin-tight dress proved a bit of a challenge and required almost as much creative manoeuvring as sex did. In the process of Tonks squirming about, trying to get the thing down over her hips, Remus became momentarily useless. Complicating matters was his inability not to touch and kiss her breasts. Ironically, he recovered his senses when Tonks sat up and reached to unfasten his belt. In an instant his trousers lay crumpled on the floor with their other clothes, and his grin was wide as he eagerly pulled the duvet up over their heads and settled himself over her once more. Tonks wrapped her legs over his thighs, tingling all over as every inch of her skin made contact his. He was so _warm_…

_This_ was how making love with Remus was supposed to be. Outside there might be desolation and desperation and war, but here, ensconced in their little blanket-covered world, was laughter, pleasure…_joy_. Everything else melted away. There was only him, rocking down into her, and her, arching up around him: giving...receiving.

At the urging of his hands, she tilted her hips upward and wrapped her legs around his waist, thighs pressing tighter on either side of him as her heels in the small of his back brought him deeper. Remus shuddered, and murmured _Nymphadora _again and again, in the most satisfied whispers and half-groans as his arms slipped underneath her, hugging her to him.

Emotion welled up in Tonks and caught in her chest; moisture pricked in her eyes, and her stomach muscles quivered. For a moment she clung to Remus, hands splayed on his back, unsure whether she was going to cry or laugh.

Suddenly she was looking into Remus' open blue eyes as he pushed up on his palms. "Aren't you going to tell me…" His eyelids fluttered shut, and he bit his lip. "…not to call you Nymphadora?"

She laughed, and slid her hands upward, over his shoulders, down to his lean, taut arms, quivering as he held his weight off of her.

"Obviously I need to do something different," Tonks puffed, "if you've…_Oh Merlin_…still got the presence of mind to pronounce it properly."

Eyes sparkling, Remus lowered himself again, lips just brushing hers as he whispered, "Nym--"

The rest was an unintelligible grunt as she pressed her mouth and hips fiercely against his, prompting him onward.

She could give what he needed, after all.

She'd found it in him.

"Remus," she whispered.

His face was buried in the curve of her neck, kissing her collarbone. She nudged his temple with her chin. She wanted to see his face, to see reflected in his expression that she'd made up for her earlier lack of enthusiasm, that he was confident he'd brought her out of her dark moon.

"Look at me, Remus."

He lifted his head, opened his eyes. Blue, hazy, lost in her. She felt what she saw in him. Yet somehow at the brink where she should have been swept away by the intense physical experience, she found herself focusing her concentration intently on _bubblegum pink_.

Remus' mouth fell open as his gaze cleared and lit, and Tonks felt his heart pounding against her chest.

_She'd done it. _

Her head fell back, and her eyes closed as rapture overtook her in a shudder.

They remained together for a long time as the waves of sensation ebbed, neither capable of much other than breathing heavily. Tonks didn't mind, loving the feel of lying like this beneath him, hipbones meeting; hearts palpitating uncontrollably against one another; flushed, slightly sticky skin pressed together; his ragged breath tickling her ear as his chin prickled the curve of her neck.

Gradually they regained their faculties, and Remus hefted himself off of her. He lingered, hovering, for just a moment, and they quietly, almost reverently, regarded their joined bodies before they finally rolled apart. Even then they didn't get up, but lay facing each other on their sides, legs tangled, hands caressing, kissing lazily, whispering sigh-like _I love yous. _

"Pink," was the first word Remus managed to say in his normal, slightly rasping, voice. With a look of wonder on his face, he slid his fingers into her hair, letting the strands twine around them. "I always thought it was your happy colour. But maybe it's your _satisfied_ colour?"

"It is my happy colour." Tonks summoned her pillow from the floor and adjusted the duvet that had slipped off of them at some point in their activities. "My Remus-makes-me-happy colour."

"Hm. I suppose I could make cross-dressing a regular routine, if it's essential to your Metamorphosing health."

Laughing, Tonks wrapped her arms around Remus' waist and snuggled against his rumbling chest. "Dangerous proposition, Mr. Lupin."

He chuckled, but abruptly stopped. He pulled back in her embrace, and his fingers touched her chin and drew her up to meet his serious gaze. "You know I'd do anything in my power to see you happy, don't you?"

It was a touching thing to say, and Tonks felt Remus' unselfish love all the way to her bones.

At the same time, it chilled her.

She shoved away the frightening feeling as a lingering ribbon of the depressing day she'd had, and hugged Remus tightly again. "Believe it or not, Weasleys' Wheezes don't have that much power over my morphing."

"What did it, then?" Remus' lips brushed her hair. Levity returned to his voice as he added, "Besides the mind-blowing sex, of course."

"You," Tonks said. "When I look at you I see a wizard who's fought and lost, but kept hold of himself. You give me hope. You're still happy, and you make me so very happy."

Remus inhaled sharply, and his arms slackened around her. He rolled onto his back, and his fingers raked through his own hair. "Please don't say that."

Tonks' heart thudded slowly, then stopped. Her blood ran cold; she felt the biting sensation of it in the tips of her fingers and toes. The previous moment's fear pummelled her.

Trembling, she sat up, clutching the sheet around herself. Remus' face was ghastly, lined.

"Why?" she whispered.

Remus' gaze was locked on the ceiling. "You can't depend on me."

"That's ridiculous. Of course I--"

She reached for him, but her hand hovered inches away as he said, "I've got to go away."

"Away?"

He looked at her with frightened eyes. _Haunted _eyes.

_Not Remus, no… _

He swallowed hard, then rasped, "Dumbledore's sending me underground. To live among the werewolves." Turning away, he whispered, "_Feral_ werewolves."

In the mirror that hung opposite the bed, Tonks watched her hair turn mousy brown.

_The End_

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_**As always, your feedback is much appreciated.**_


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